


Buttercups

by lynxladybuglover



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Very Light on the Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynxladybuglover/pseuds/lynxladybuglover
Summary: Molly and Yasha hang out in a field. Things are good.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Buttercups

**Author's Note:**

> minimalist molly and yasha fluff! my favorite platonic soulmates... this yasha is written as ARO ACE even if it isn’t explicit and will be aro ace in any fic I write in the future

“Have you ever cloud-watched, Yasha?” Mollymauk asks. He is lying down in a field just off the road where the carnival had stopped for the afternoon. His arms are crossed behind his head, tickled by the grass, but his eyes are turned to watch Yasha.

“It’s- part of my job, isn’t it?” she answers, amused. She is sitting beside him, absently plucking and rearranging wildflowers in her hands. She glances over at him, and then huffs, a shy smile crossing her lips. She looks up, and Molly, satisfied, does too.

Molly and Yasha trade clouds for a while. Yasha makes a stumbling joke, and they laugh together, Molly wheezing with the force of it, and he opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out. He frowns and sits up, clenching the grass in tight fists. Yasha quiets, and reaches a hand to his.

“Are you alright, Mollymauk?”

He jerks his hand back, but glances briefly up at her, brows furrowed, and then reaches back. Their fingers interlock, a comfortable pressure, and Molly sighs, drooping a little. Yasha says nothing else, and they sit in shared silence for a few minutes.

Molly starts out of his haze when his hand empties. His head yanks up, and his lips part in a weak croak. Yasha is still there, however, and is balanced on one knee, about to stand up. She frowns and tilts her head questioningly, so Molly gives his best grin and waves her off. She smiles, a small quirk of the lip, and jogs further afield.

He flips forward onto his chest, watching the distant figure walk from between the grass. A few seconds tick by. He squints an eye shut and pretends to squish her with his claws, snickering internally. He pushes up onto his forearms a few minutes later when Yasha begins to head towards him.

“I got something for you,” she says. “You might want to sit up, though.”

His eyes round with delight. She holds out a small bouquet of wildflowers, mostly some kind of round, bright yellow flower. He sits up, nudges one with a claw, and raises his eyebrows up at her.

“Those are buttercups, Molly,” she replies, still with that faint smile. “Want me to put some in your hair?”

He nods eagerly, and the tension from before melts away. Yasha steps over his shoulder easily, and sinks to her knees behind him. She tugs at his curly hair and slowly weaves in the buttercups. Occasionally she yanks too hard, and Molly twists to face her with a pout, and they both giggle helplessly at each other. When she does, though, she smooths her hand through his hair, and Molly can’t help but lean back into it.

It happens when Yasha runs out of hair instead of flowers. She taps his shoulder, and he turns around. He places the back of his hand under his chin and closes his eyes, tilting his head slightly in presentation, but quickly drops his hand with a wide grin. She holds the rest of the flowers out to him. Molly blinks, and grabs them. He looks up at Yasha, then down at the flowers. He leans forward a little.

He drops them all on her head.

“Wh- hey!” Yasha sputters, swiping her face. She opens her eyes, and she breaks into a wide, helpless smile at Molly’s smug grin.

All at once, time seems to slow. Molly feels this moment etch onto his heart: Yasha, face open in a smile, teeth peeking through her lips, tangled, flower-strewn braids streaming behind her. His chest swells, and he reaches out to cup a hand on her jaw. Her skin is soft.

“Yasha,” he breathes, and tries to find the words.

Her smile fades, and she gently holds the hand at her jaw, lightly squeezing it, and pulls it down to her lap. She keeps her face down.

“I might not always be here, Mollymauk,” she confesses.

She looks away. There are storm clouds on the horizon that Molly hadn’t noticed before. They see a bolt of lightning crack into the ground. Molly leans forward, and she looks away from the storm. Their foreheads touch, warm with sunlight. His voice returns, low and rough.

“You’re worth the wait.”


End file.
